


On the Corner Where Lovers Meet

by jusrecht



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1424449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not-really-an-office-AU. Kyuhyun is a branch manager. Siwon is his boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Corner Where Lovers Meet

**Author's Note:**

> Originally inspired by SWING. But then the angst sneaks in and... yeah, seriously, read the warning. The issue is sensitive for some.

First and foremost, there is Cho Kyuhyun, head of the Beijing branch of a multinational corporation.

He comes into being when the alarm sounds on Monday. Innumerable cups of coffee and a crisp suit with an immaculate tie cement his existence. Polished leather shoes bring him to his waiting car and chauffeur, and then the gleaming black Mercedes will glide down the road, weaving in and out of traffic until it comes to a stop in front of his sky-domed office.

And the day officially begins.

 

.

 

Fifteen minutes away from midday, he has closed two deals, untangled thirteen problems, and laid down six new strategies for the third and fourth quarters.

There still remain a slew of other things in his agenda. Back in his silent office, Kyuhyun closes his eyes and lets a flow of numbers and statistics skim over the surface of his consciousness as his personal assistant reads him details for the next meeting, scheduled an hour for now.

There is no secret to his long, long list of accomplishments. All the difference lies in his ability to handle an entire mountain of data, crosschecked and analysed against each other, until they yield an array of solutions from which he will choose one. Within the complexity of a problem is where he thrives.

Some people call it genius. Some others, pure talent. A disgruntled few will always insist on giving all the credits to luck.

Kyuhyun does not waste time trying to give it a name. He can, and so he does. The rest is irrelevant.

 

.

 

Tuesday and Wednesday follow in a similar pace, but Thursday is slightly different. There is a stir, a sort of jittery wave as realisations dawn that the week is almost at its end. There are more demands to his attention, more urgent messages and frantic emails. More slipshod mistakes and rushed results.

Friday is Thursday three times worse, flecked with both lassitude and impatience. Kyuhyun is in no way immune to these lapses. He stares at clocks and windows and the grim-faced display of his cell phone, hoping for something that does not come.

Then the week ends—and with it, Cho Kyuhyun.

 

.

 

Guixian begins every Friday night.

Sometimes he comes home first, carefully dressing himself up for the long night ahead. Other times he simply walks out of the office already flaunting his thighs in leather pants, hair gelled up and eyes gilded by dark, smoky lines.

His secretary and assistants gape, but no one ever really asks. Weekends are personal, a whole different world once the clock strikes seven. His is a world of blinking darkness and stomping beat. Guixian lives to forget. He laughs and drinks, flirts and dances, kisses men and women alike—even brings one back to a hotel room when he feels like it.

But never the same person twice. He does not make that mistake. (Anymore.)

Some calls him Kyuhyun. Some calls him Guixian. Either way, the circle is endless.

 

.

 

The last—and certainly least—is Kyuhyun.

He is the foolish one. The weak, selfish, wicked, delusional one. He manifests in a little apartment at the other side of the city, every third Saturday of the month. In many ways, he is secret, almost imaginary—and certainly better dead.

But he isn’t; instead, he makes his appearance in that modest, three-roomed space with unfailing regularity. There, he will spend long, miserable hours staring at the mirror which makes one side of the wall, wondering why, what the hell are you doing, how could you, as he waits and waits and waits.

Then the waiting ends, the front door opens with a click, and none of those questions matters anymore.

 

.

 

“You cut your hair.”

Kyuhyun smiles. “Weeks and weeks ago,” he murmurs, loving the fingers that tangle in the short tresses of his hair and caress his scalp.

“I’m sorry.” A soft apology touches the tips of his fingers. “The last three months have been–”

“I know.” Kyuhyun silences the tumbling excuse, with lips and tongues and all the wetness in between. “I work for you.”

Siwon’s response is to pull him down into a deeper, rougher kiss. Kyuhyun yields, closes his eyes, opens his mouth and moans—because he may not be Guixian who lives to forget, but for the moment, he simply wants to believe that no other world outside this room exists.

 

.

 

Kyuhyun—the foolish, selfish, horrible Kyuhyun—is in love.

It’s the kind of love that demolishes common sense and burns down morality. The kind that strips pride naked and throws rotten eggs at it.

So he doesn’t care that Siwon is a man and his boss and married with two kids. He doesn’t care that they can only meet like this, in a small apartment every third Saturday of the month. He doesn’t even care that he’s destroying two, five, many lives by keeping Siwon here, trapped, with him.

Because Kyuhyun is in love and this love spits on everything else but itself.

 

.

 

Once, Siwon takes him out for dinner.

It’s a small, modest restaurant serving traditional Beijing cuisine. Kyuhyun is too tense to enjoy the good food and he spends the entire dinner trying not to stare at the pale strip of skin on Siwon’s left ring finger.

At least the rice wine helps. It steadies the ball of warmth in his stomach and keeps his hands from shaking.

When they’re done, they take a long walk back to the apartment. He can feel the night wind slithers in the space between their shoulders. The distance is expected. Correct. Appropriate.

Until Siwon says, “I love you.”

He says it like an apology, but Kyuhyun only hears the words—only sees the eyeless darkness that surrounds them. He turns around, heart in his throat, and lunges at Siwon, kissing him and burning all the guilt and shame and wrongness that breeds and breeds inside his chest under the night’s forgiving shroud.

He can feel the smile on their faces when they separate, chests pressed against each other, heart to heart. When a dog barks from a nearby house, his smile breaks into a laugh. Siwon laughs with him, for once light and free, arms are cradling him like he is the most precious thing in the world. (And maybe he is, for that tiny fragment of time.)

Kyuhyun lives for these moments. Poisoned and fraught with pain as they are, they make him the happiest man alive.

 

.

 

They both have thirty, forty hours at most. Then Siwon will catch a late flight back to Seoul and Kyuhyun will return to his empty apartment at the other side of the city and waits for the third Saturday of next month, breathing and living on maybes.

It is a narrow life, a limping life, splintered into separate lies-crusted masks. But as long as Choi Siwon still walks this earth, Kyuhyun knows that he will always choose this life.

 

**End**


End file.
